


Red, White, and Rare Blue Auroras

by 50NoriStars



Series: Star Hero Post [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Mild Kink, Mild Language, Mild Smut, Small Towns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 02:04:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20332258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/50NoriStars/pseuds/50NoriStars
Summary: When his fearless adventurer brother dies unexpectedly, meek homebody Arthur sets off to bury Alastair's ashes at a remote Alaskan port their family once owned. Unbeknownst to Arthur however, the port's new owner, independence obsessed Alfred F. Jones, has been waging war against Alistair for some time, and now intends to bring the fight to Arthur in the strangest manner possible...





	1. Red, Furious Red

Northern lights tour guide and remote Alaskan airport operator Alfred F. Jones was seeing red, of the fierce vengeful variety. A British Aerospace 125 private business jet with Union Jack flag design on the tail was once again parked in HIS favorite hangar. As if it owns the place. Still. Alfred thought angrily, drumming work glove clad fingers against the tiny ops office desk before lunging for his cell phone. 

“Mats, you marshaled in that British fucker AGAIN!” He growled to his Canadian half brother, currently out setting up camp for a group of Hungarian lady cookware enthusiasts.

“Temper, temper Als. Pleeeeease don’t swear to make the ladies hit me with their skillets agaaaaaain.” Mathew begged in his usual soft spoken manner, which unfortunately always came off as begging to be ignored, especially to louder and gruffer Alfred.

“Those British fuckers the Kirklands no longer own this port, Mats! I bought them out, declared independence, and dumped their tea boxes into lav juice harbor to celebrate.” Alfred smirked at the memory while Mathew continued to whine. 

“Oh, but I miss the Kirkland’s tea, Als, and their British Aerospace magazines featuring retro 125’s like the kind I hope to buy some daaaaaaaay.”

Heh heh. Dumped the magazines in lav juice harbor too. Alfred relished the memory, then stopped smiling when he saw a glossy new copy lying on Mathew’s much smaller desk. Fucking Kirklands. Squatting in my office too! He uncrossed rock salt smeared trousers and stomped jet fuel sodden work boots across the floor. But just as he threw the magazine on the floor to stomp on that as well.... 

“Hey, what the fuck Mats! Alistair Kirkland died last week? It says so right here on the cover of your magazine. So if he’s dead which Kirkland did you marshal into my hangar? Because this new Kirkland owes us a SHIT ton of money!” 

“Er, ...eh?” Mathew’s voice sounded even smaller and more Canadian than before at being found out, then he rallied somewhat to resume begging. “Oh, pleeeease Als. That Arthur Kirkland guy looked too sad for me to turn away or demand payment. In fact he looked so sad I settled him on our best overlook ridge in our best tent so he could light spot in peace. It was the least I could do, seeing how his brother was such a lights fan. A bigger fan than us, don’t you know? Saw the rare blue aurora here even.”

And just like that, Alfred began to see red again. Alistair Kirkland saw a rare blue aurora? Here? No, he couldn’t have. Alfred fumed, furious with envy at the thought of Alistair Kirkland seeing one because he like all Northern Lights followers had been trying for decades to witness the predominantly blue aurora effect which only appeared under the rarest of weather conditions. He’s lying. Fucking lights scammer, brother duping, bastard! I’ll kill him! Oh crap, he’s already dead. But the brother isn’t...yet.


	2. White, Calming White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When his fearless adventurer brother dies unexpectedly, meek homebody Arthur sets off to bury Alastair's ashes at a remote Alaskan port their family once owned. Unbeknownst to Arthur however, the port's new owner, independence obsessed Alfred F. Jones, has been waging war against Alistair for some time, and now intends to bring the fight to Arthur in the strangest manner possible...

Arthur Kirkland blinked in surprise at the white sky and white snow blowing outside his white tent. He had come to bury his brother’s ashes under a wild, blue swirled Alaskan midnight sky, or so his brother had outlined in his final instructions packet. However, as Arthur was no outdoor enthusiast like his brother, and even less so a night person, the billowing whiteness outside was proving to be quite the cozy backdrop for what would have been a typical Friday night lie in for Arthur. 

In his grief dazed, homesick state he compared the snow battering the plastic windows of his tent to rain battering the windows of his London flat, and his brother’s vacuum sealed ashes on the camp table beside him a vacuum sealed bag of tea. Now if only he held a beloved book in his hands instead of Alistair’s final instructions packet. "Soon, Squidgy." A memory of hairy, swarthy Alistair comparing Arthur’s smooth porcelain skin to squidgy wet dough filled Arthur’s ears. "Soon be home for more milksopping." The voice also mocked Arthur for always preparing tea by lining his tea cups with milk first to keep the beloved cups from cracking. 

_ _ _ _“Right, Stair-Bear.” Arthur raised a milk lined mug of coffee in memory of his brother, a bear of a man and Military hero who’d piloted fighter jets in both Iraq and Afghanistan. ‘Cheers.” He took a sip, balked at the cold salty taste his tongue encountered, then realised he’d been crying softly into the mug for some time while the drink cooled. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _‘Christ, Alistair.” He found himself spitting out sobs as well as coffee. ‘Heroes like you are meant to survive everything, not succumb to a trifling flu in bleeding Puddletown, Dorset. Then have the bloody cheek to send their gormless little brother to dispose of their ashes in...in...what’s the name of this wilderness post?” Arthur recalled Alistair calling it that. “Where am I again?” Teary green eyes cast about the room for a location name, only to land on the mug in his hand with the obnoxious constellation as superhero holding an American flag motif. “Star Hero Post. Stars and Bars, Alaska. Lord love it.” He harrumphed, then let slip a sob laugh. “Star Hero Post? What arsemonger came up with that?” Unkempt eyebrows, the one saucy feature on Arthur’s otherwise delicate heart shaped face, furrowed in confusion, then surprise, when in a last burst of snow swirled white…_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“Alfred F. Jones. Arsemonger AND HERO in chief.” What appeared to be a Yeti burst into the tent to make Arthur jolt at his size first, then his burger breath second._ _ _ _


	3. Blue, Aurora Blue?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When his fearless adventurer brother dies unexpectedly, meek homebody Arthur sets off to bury Alastair's ashes at a remote Alaskan port their family once owned. Unbeknownst to Arthur however, the port's new owner, independence obsessed Alfred F. Jones, has been waging war against Alistair for some time, and now intends to bring the fight to Arthur in the strangest manner possible...

Arthur blinked and blinked same as before, only at a yeti now, billowing inside his tent door as fierce as the snow billowing outside. However, once the yeti began gesturing furiously to make snow fall off him, the yeti turned out to be just a man, a rather young one in fact, though taller than Arthur, and dressed in a dark blue below wing uniform that blended in with the shadows to blur his face until… whoosh! A matching balaclava was rolled up to his brow to reveal ...lord help Arthur... the deepest, darkest, starriest blue eyes he’d ever seen. 

“...hangar hoarders....fuel wasters...brother dupers...lights scammers…” The man was saying, but those eyes, those eyes. 

Arthur had always been a goner for blue eyed men, sky blue eyes in fact, the lighter the better. Conversely, his brother Alistair had always been attracted to men with dark blue eyes. So much so Alistair had often referred to this weakness during his endless appeals Arthur travel with him to Alaska to see the blue aurora in his lifetime. “Leave off them weak blue eyed men, Squidgy.” Arthur recalled Alistair saying at a pub one night after witnessing a spectacularly awkward pick up fail on Arthur’s part. “Past time you let a midnight blue sky top you, make that milksopping mouth of yours all slack like.” He’d thrown back his burly head to imitate star gazing, then followed that up with gay porn mouth gestures to make ale shoot out Arthur’s nose. 

_ _ _ _“...fucking Kirklands...acting like you still rule this place....owe me a SHIT ton of money…” _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Alfred’s bellowing broke through Arthur’s grief stricken memories and he was back to blinking at the wildly gesturing former yeti, only this time he could actually hear what Alfred was saying instead of staring at his starry eyes._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"MY port is no longer your family’s fucking colony to rule over all king like, Kirkland! Whichever Kirkland prince you are. Charles, William, Harry, I don’t give a fuck! You owe me a shit ton of money from boarding your plane alone, let alone for my not killing you because I’M INDEPENDENT NOW!” _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _All this from a mouth with deep smile lines to indicate it was more accustomed to smiling than threatening people, and a cowlick of dirty blonde hair sticking out the man’s rolled up balaclava to wave back and forth, over and over, as if to greet Arthur excitedly each time the man gesticulated. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ “Ha-hmm.” Arthur let slip a chuckle, then another, and scratched his own lighter blonde hair at the absurdity of the situation. Lord love this Yank. He must have been a bear-poker extraordinaire when it came to poking bear-like Alistair with his madcap declarations of independence. How Alistair must have relished pissing all over the younger man’s territory, and worse._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ "Oi. This bear’s off to Alaska to shit in the woods again. My woods. No matter what a certain Alfred F. Jones has to say about it. May his freckles fall off and his glasses steam up from the stink." Back at the pub, Alistair had often toasted his Alaska travel plans in just that way to confuse Arthur. But now there was no question just who Alistair had been referring to. _____

___ “Alfred F. Jones?” Arthur tried the name out for himself, cracked a smile at how sexy the name felt on his tongue, then cracked a private smile at the man’s freckles and eyeglasses Alistair had described so...so...piningly perhaps? __ _

_ _ _ _ _ _“Fuck yeah I’m Alfred F. Jones. Owner and hero in chief of this port and tour company. That’s me.” The man, and his cowlick, stood up straighter. _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _“Hero in Chief, did you say?” Arthur couldn’t resist asking, as the man’s starry eyes seemed to flash brighter each time the word hero was mentioned. _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _“Fuck yeah, hero in chief. Because if it wasn’t for me, …” Alfred launched into a job description that caused Arthur to purse his lips to keep from laughing, because it was mundane below wing operation duties Alfred described, such as steering airplanes safely into hangars on landing and distributing cargo weight on airplanes before takeoff to prevent crashes, which though safety oriented, hardly qualified as heroic. Arthur would know, as he performed same tasks back home just for fun whenever his brothers flew their business jets, but he kept that fact to himself._ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _“Right then, Hero in Chief.” He nodded respectfully once Alfred finished, watched the man’s eyes flash once again at the word hero, (beautiful), then checked his watch. “Would you be so kind as to tell me, as I imagine you are the most knowledgeable person concerning the Northern Lights around these parts.” (Another eye flash at the compliment) “...what time the rare blue aurora will make an appearance this evening, and where best to bury my brother’s ashes within view of it?”_ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _Oh, did the eyes flash then, but no longer from Arthur’s compliments. “Fucking lights scammer...brother duper…” Alfred was back to full on rage mode in an instant._ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ Ah, put my foot in it again._ Arthur thought with zero remorse, as all light shows featured explosive moments so why not the blue eyed light show looming over him in the form of sexy Alfred F. Jones?__ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _“Lived here all my life...no blue auroras at MY port… the fuck if I’m gonna let that lights scammer be buried here…” _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _And the next thing Arthur knew he and the Yank were tussling for Alastair’s bagged remains, with Arthur somehow managing to wrench himself and the bag free, then managing to yank Alfred’s balaclava down over his face to blind that brute. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _Arthur ran out into the darkness, as the midnight hour had at last arrived, and the Alaskan sky above him was indeed lit up with shimmering, cosmic color. Though what exact color Arthur couldn’t say as he was too busy struggling to run through snow in his iconic, British, Crockett & Jones boots that though suede, were hardly fit for navigating a snowy wilderness terrain. So the moment his green eyes lit on a shrub big enough to hide his diminutive form he dove for it, only to land on an arm he wasn’t expecting, in a tackle that seemed to come from nowhere._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _“I’ve got you now Kirkland! Whichever pansy ass princess Kirkland you are.” Alfred mocked Arthur’s much smaller stature pinned beneath him. “Pansy ass Kate Middleton, Meghan Markle, still don’t give a fuck!” Alfred pinned him down easily with one hand and reached for the bag with the other._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _Trapped physically, Arthur’s intellectual reserves were quick to kick in and he heard his own voice cry out. “No, not my tea! Please spare my tea!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _“Huh? Tea? Fucking TEA?” Alfred relaxed his grip in confusion just long enough for Arthur to slip an arm free and dump Alastair’s remains into the shrub beside him. “The fuck?” Alfred gulped at the sight, then upon realising he’d been duped grabbed hold of Arthur’s Union Jack print scarf. “Now you’re one...DEAD princess...Kirkland.” He strangled him_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _“Why...for honoring... my dead brother’s...final wish?” Arthur was capable of speech as Alfred’s strangling was mainly for show and perhaps...some kink elements thrown in? _Just how close had this man been to Alistair? _ Arthur found himself wondering, then a revelation struck him, and he maneuvered himself under the shrub so Alfred loomed over Alastair’s remains more than himself. ___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _“The fuck...are you...doing?” Alfred balked at the movement, instantly suspicious. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _“Giving...Alastair...one last...blue aurora.” Arthur replied smugly. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _“Huh?” Alfred stopped strangling him then, astounded at Arthur’s smugness when above them glimmered a predominantly green aurora swirled sky. “_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _“YOU are the rare blue aurora, Alfred F. Jones.” Arthur informed him, once again amazed at how sexy the name sounded on his tongue. Then he pushed Alfred off him and sat up primly to straighten his scarf as if it were a tie. “Or more specifically, your starry blue eyes are the aurora my brother must have been enthralled by.” He stood to brush snow off his trousers and blazer next. “Hence my burying Alistair’s ashes BELOW YOU, as it were.” He smirked down at the shrub. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ "Ta. Squidgy. Well done." _ Alastair’s voice filled his ears. __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _Now it was Arthur’s turn to gulp. “No, Stair-Bair. Ta to you. Lord love you. Goodbye?” He gulped harder, then burst out crying at the thought of actually leaving Alistair in Alaska. Apparently his duty obsessed brain hadn’t processed this portion of Alistair’s final wishes until now. “No I can’t leave you, Stair-Bear. What, here? In this wilderness? Alone? I won’t allow it! I won’t allow it!” The last was spoken like the tantrums he used to throw as a child to prevent Allistair from bad weather adventuring. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ "Oi, Squidgy." Alistair’s child voice filled his ears. "You know I need to feel weather, not watch it piss against windows."__ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ "It’s more than weather you’re feeling out there, everyone’s saying."_ Jealous teenage Arthur had once brought up Allistair’s many hiking companions.__ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ "Oi, so what if I am?"_ Alistair’s teenage voice filled his ears. _ "Would do you good to feel something other than milk tea down your gullet and throw pillows under your bum, Arthur. Preferably with someone not as gormless as you, if I ever get the chance to arrange it as you’ll never have the bloody cheek…"_____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _Back to reality, Arthur’s grief stung eyes flitted from the shrub to a very confused Alfred. _ "You set me up, Stair-Bear? Is that what this trip was? Is?"____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _"Bloody hell, of course! I can hardly leave you without a brute as manky as me to look after you. Now can I, Squidgy…"_ Alistair’s voice faded, then was gone. __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ “No.” Arthur gulped, waited a bit, then upon feeling completely abandoned by Alistair for the last time, impulsively dove for the shrub so hard he hit his head on the stump and knocked himself unconscious._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	4. Red, White and... Green Auroras?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When his fearless adventurer brother dies unexpectedly, meek homebody Arthur sets off to bury Alastair's ashes at a remote Alaskan port their family once owned. Unbeknownst to Arthur however, the port's new owner, independence obsessed Alfred F. Jones, has been waging war against Alistair for some time, and now intends to bring the fight to Arthur in the strangest manner possible...

“Kirkland’s bruder is a hero, ja.” A deep German voice combined with firm shaking roused Arthur from unconsciousness. Through slitted eyes he saw red flashing lights and two paramedics, one tall and blonde and one medium sized and white haired. 

“What do you mean he’s the hero? I’m the hero in chief around here.” Alfred protested.

“Hero in chief, wirklich!” The paramedics rumbled and cackled with laughter respectively  
as Arthur wheezed into an oxygen mask. 

“Yes for real!” 

“Did you brave the wildnes to bury your bruders ashes? Mit weak skin like this?” The rumble voiced blonde asked Alfred as his firm paramedic hands examined Arthur’s pale exposed neck. 

“Es ist weak British skin.” The cackle voiced white haired paramedic agreed. “And you bruised it, knick-wurger Alfred!” 

“Knick-wurger? What the fuck’s a knick-wurger?” 

“It’s a kink strangler, knick-wurger Alfred!”

“It isn’t! I’m not !” 

“You are a knick-wurger Alfred, as we are your neck bruise healers in chief. All those years treating the Scottish Kirkland, and now this British Kirkland. So troublesome.” The rumble voice blonde sighed exasperatedly, then shook Arthur as before. “I see you’re awake, Kirkland. Open your eyes fully for me now, bitte?” Arthur complied, groggily, then flinched when he heard the paramedic exclaim. “Aussehen! Such green eyes.” 

“Like the lights!” The albino agreed, and both paramedics looked up at the green aurora swirled sky then back at Arthur. 

“No way, that’s just stupid!” Alfred whined. “You’re putting me on.” 

“See for yourself, dummkopf.” The blonde grabbed hold of Alfred to show him, and at the sight 

Alfred’s mouth gaped in shock. “Oh my God! That is...the most amazing...no wonder Alistair wanted…” Alfred gulped, looked at the shrub containing Alistair’s remains, then back at Arthur. “I get it now.” He said, genuine understanding lighting up his eyes, followed by...desire perhaps? 

Yes, definitely desire. Arthur happily surmised from behind his oxygen mask, and felt his mouth go slack from pleasure at Alfred’s newly desirous looks and now super close proximity, when that man leaned in close to suspend his starry blue eyes over Arthur’s green ones, as Alastair had always sworn he’d arrange for Arthur one day…


End file.
